


Collect

by naiad (iamnaiad)



Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnaiad/pseuds/naiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange that there had been so much to keep even when there was no music involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collect

_'He's the one they call Dr. Feelgood  
He's the one that makes ya feel alright'_

Nick hummed to himself as his finger slid along the edge of the shelf. It was perfectly clean, the surface smooth and cold under his skin. There was no dust to mark his progress. He shimmied a little to the music in his head. This shelf held video tapes. From one wall to the next they sat against each other, spines visible and labels clear. Each title was followed by a date – 1996, 1997, 1998, all the way through to 2004. Occasionally there were gaps, proof of time spent out of the spotlight. He trailed his finger across the labels – Backstreet stuff, solo appearances and performances and things that weren't either at all. Strange that there had been so much to keep even when there was no music involved. Nick took a deep breath and then smiled at the third tape from the end. Oprah. The homecoming.

His internal playlist rotated and Nick began to beat the rhythm against his leg as he crouched to look at the next shelf down. CDs up one end, DVDs at the other. They were a mix of bootlegs and originals – he didn't think there was a single recording missing. Amazing how many performances had been captured. And not just performances, there was a whole section of data CDs, online footage that had been meticulously saved and labelled. He didn't remember a lot of it except that there had always been someone with a camera until a door was shut in their face.

Nick stepped up the beat and began to rock his head. He glanced at the top shelf, but decided to leave it for the moment. On the far wall was poster storage unit full of Backstreet posters. He'd been told that a copy of every poster ever produced was in that unit. Three steps and he was standing in front of it, flicking through them one by one. His background beat stopped as he giggled and snorted. Dorks. They had been complete dorks. He'd had an excuse at least. He'd been the youngest, doing what he was told despite the occasional disagreement, tantrum, whatever – but Kevin had no excuse. Nick made a mental note to give Kevin shit during their next studio session. Maybe something involving a prop. He grinned and turned to the cabinet beside the posters. Memorabilia, also known as incredibly tacky merchandise. Cups, lunchboxes, bedding, key rings – their faces had been plastered across everything it was possible to put a face on, and even some things it wasn't. He grimaced at his distorted features as they wrapped around a pen. Why had he ever thought that haircut was a good idea?

The song in his head flipped again and Nick rocked his way back to the shelves. The top shelf was his favourite. It was mostly bare. On the left sat five figures in their boxes, Brian, Howie, Kevin, AJ and Nick. To the right were five boxed Nsync figures, Joey, Justin, Chris, JC and Lance. In the middle were two others, removed from their boxes and arranged with care. The Nick figure had one arm up and his legs spread in a rocked out pose, the other arm was stretched out to touch the back of the figure beside it. Their positions had changed since the last time Nick had been in the room. He lifted a hand towards them, preparing to rearrange their positions. He was humming out loud again.

Nick was trying to bend his miniature's knees when a voice harmonised with his and welcoming hands slipped around his waist. He leant back into the body behind him and waved his figure up.

"You're getting sentimental in your old age, Fatone. Since when have these guys been hugging instead of fucking?"

Joey slipped a hand under the front of Nick's t-shirt and rubbed his belly. "I thought they could do with a break. It has to be hard on the knees, being bent over like that all the time." He pushed at the back of Nick's knees with his own and pressed a kiss into Nick's neck. The beard tickled and sent a shiver down Nick's spine.

"This time I'll be on my knees. Save your old and weary bones." Nick grinned and pulled the Joey figure off the shelf. Joey moved with him and Nick relished the way they moulded together. It was warm and comfortable. "You want to be standing or lying down?"

"Standing. You can blow me for a month." Joey dipped his hand under Nick's waistband, teasing at the trail of hair.

"Even the great Joey Fatone wouldn't last a month. In fact, in my experience he's lucky to last ten minutes."

Joey pulled his hands from Nick's pants and smacked him on the ass. "Cheeky child."

Nick put the figures back on the shelf. Now he was kneeling front of Joey, arms reaching up to grasp his waist. "Much better, and this cheeky child drives you crazy." He turned around and smirked at Joey.

"Crazy like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2." Joey pulled Nick close again so their chests were flush and Nick could look into Joey's eyes. "I could live without it."

"Really?" Nick leant down to nibble at Joey's ear. "You could live without me?" He sucked Joey's earlobe into his mouth and licked at it gently.

"Uh huh. Don't need you at all." Joey moaned, his head tilting to the side. "Plenty of groupies. Um. Waiting in line."

"Right. That's why you have a room dedicated to Backstreet." He nipped at Joey's throat before lifting his head. "Just how would you explain that to the chicks?"

Joey pulled Nick even closer and left his hands on Nick's ass. "Know your enemy." There was a smirk on his face as he dropped his head to Nick's shoulder and snorted.

"I think you mean obsessed with the enemy. You have more Backstreet stuff than me and the guys put together!"

Soft lips pressed against Nick's neck. "I'm a collector."

"You don't have time to collect anything." Nick poked Joey's side with a finger. "Your assistant is a collector."

Joey shrugged. "It's still my collection."

"Right. And tell me again how you manage to keep it so neat when you're a big old slob?"

"Who's a slob?"

"You're a slob."

"I think I heard you wrong. Don't you mean you're a slob."

Nick felt the danger coming, but he said it anyway. "No. You're a slob."

Joey started tickling and Nick twitched and then they were on the floor. Nick tried to breathe, but laughing and the weight on top of him were causing problems. He pushed at Joey. "Off, man. I can't breathe right."

"Uh uh. Not until you admit that you're a slob and I'm the best collector in the world."

Nick shook his head and Joey's fingers fluttered against his sides. "C'mon, dude."

"No. Say 'I am a slob and you are the best collector in the world."

"I am a slob and you are the best collector in the world." Joey's weight wasn't bothering Nick any more. He loved the feeling of Joey stretched out over him, heat seeping from one body to the other.

Joey whispered against Nick's lips. "Good boy. And why am I the best collector in the world?"

Nick smiled. "Because you're the only person in the world who has the complete collection."


End file.
